Never Let Go
by jojojojpjojo
Summary: Sherlock is an expert at hiding his feelings from everyone. Including the person he had the most feelings for. His colleague and good friend, John Watson. Rated T for language
1. Chapter 1

"Sherlock? Sherlock! C'mon, wake up." John kicked the end of Sherlock's bed with his foot. He walked over to his face and snapped his fingers. He never slept in.

"Sherlock?" He asked. Sherlock slowly opened one eye and smiled.

"Ah hello there, John." It was odd to John that Sherlock would just smile at him when he was disturbing his sleep. Sherlock hated that.

"Hello. Okay, we have a case to do." John said, clapping his hands together. Sherlock's face was still smushed against the pillow. He was lying on his stomach.

"Don't I chose the cases, John?" He smiled and pushed himself up and looked down. He smiled like he was smiling down on someone who was supposed to be next to him. Almost in the bed with him. Then, he looked up again and shook his head.

"Um, yeah. You chose this one yesterday." John said, putting his hands in his pockets. Sherlock turned over and put an arm over his forehead, blocking the sunlight from his eyes.

"Oh God, is this the one with Ms. Mertz and her husband?" Sherlock groaned. John nodded his head slowly.

Sherlock flipped the covers off of him and stood up. John felt as though he should give Sherlock some privacy but he stayed. He was frozen for some reason. John watched as Sherlock moved to the closet to change.

"John?" He questioned. John shook his head.

"Yes, of course. Excuse me." John walked out of the room, not noticing that Sherlock was smiling.

John went to the stove and put on the kettle. He wanted to make himself a cup of tea. He grabbed a tea bag and put it into the mug he was going to put the water in. Then, he sat down in his chair and waited.

"Sherlock, why don't you have a TV?" John yelled. Sherlock walked out in his blazer and button up shirt with the top button not buttoned.

"I was never fond of TV." He walked over to the stove and took the kettle off once it started whistling. He poured the water into the mug and drank it.

"Hey, that's mine!" John said, standing up. Sherlock looked at him over the brim of the mug.

"I know. It's mine now."

John sighed and collapsed back into his chair. He shook his head and stared into the fireplace that had wood but no ashes.

"It's really hard to be your friend." He said, still staring into the fire.

"Hm, I know that." He sipped the tea again and put it down. Sherlock walked over to his chair and sat down. He clasped his hands together and stuck his two index up and by his mouth.

"What's our case again?"

"Ms. Mertz lost her husband after she went out. When she came back-" John was cut off.

"Her husband was on the floor, dead. No blood or knife." Sherlock said, clearly bored.

"Yes and we have to go to her house to-"

"John, can't we do something else?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Honest to God, Sherlock, we have to at least go over to her house to look around. If you know what happened already, tell me and I'll tell her in a polite way." John said.

"Oh, John, I tell people their husband was drugged in the most polite way there is!" Sherlock exclaimed.

John rolled his eyes and got up. He grabbed his coat and turned around. Sherlock was standing right there.

"That's my coat." He looked at his arms and saw it was huge on him. It almost touched the floor when it was on him. John blushed and took it off. He handed it to him and turned to get his own.

"John, I don't really say this a lot…" Sherlock grinned. John's heart skipped a beat. What, Sherlock, what?! He silently screamed in his head. John felt the words to tell it to him right back on his lips.

"You're extremely short. Honestly, you're like a midget." Sherlock told him.

"Thanks. I needed that." John sighed. He felt his heartbeat slowing down.

"C'mon, let's grab a taxi before everyone starts trying to grab one." Sherlock popped his collar up and stuffed his hands in his pockets. John sighed and shook his head. He needed to stop hanging around Sherlock. He needed to stick up for himself.

He followed Sherlock outside.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ms. Mertz, please try to calm down." John pleaded. She sobbed into her handkerchief.

"Oh my, Mr. Watson-" She sobbed.

"Please, call me John." He said, trying to put an arm around the ancient lady. John was nervous she was going to just fall on the floor, dead, from shaking and crying so much. As he tried to comfort her, her smell (of cats) made John want to put his shirt over his nose to get the smell out of his nostrils.

"Well, John, I just…" She blew her nose. "I just miss him so much!" She bawled. She put her head into her hands as John patted her back.

"There, there. Don't cry. I know losing someone dear is…" He looked up at Sherlock. "Hard. Painful, like a stab into the heart."

"Exactly!" She threw her arms up into the air. She walked over to a soft, green chair and sat down. Sherlock turned away from his investigating (which consisted of looking at a drawer and a clock). He nodded his head and sat down on the couch, across from her.

"Ms. Mertz, did your husband have anything to do with… criminals?" He asked. Ms. Mertz shook her head a little too soon.

Sherlock looked at John, who shrugged.

"Did he ever have people over for big parties?" Sherlock asked suddenly.

"Oh, well yes! He had many men over. Never much women except for this one lady who would always come. She would always give him something, I never saw what though." Ms. Mertz sighed as a cat jumped onto her lap.

"Did this woman look old?" Sherlock did the thing with his fingers again. John rolled his eyes as Sherlock stared at the woman intently.

"Uh, no. Frankly, she was quite young. Don't know what she was doing hanging around a bunch of old men." Ms. Mertz sighed. Sherlock all of a sudden had a slow, wicked grin stretch across his face.

"Did this woman have brown hair and red lipstick on?" He asked. contemplated about this and then nodded. She stroked the cat's back.

"Ah, but the poor dear. Stopped coming after my husband slowly began to change. you see, he went through a phase where he talked very little and stay up in his room. Sometimes I would peek in and see so many beakers full of… concoctions he's created or got from someone." She shook her head.

"Do you know her name?" Sherlock asked. John knew by the look on Sherlock's face, he already did.

"No, no dear. I don't remember." Ms. Mertz sighed and scratched behind the cat's ears. The cat purred and nuzzled up to her.

"May I take a look at your husband's room?" John asked. Ms. Mertz gestured to the stairs.

"Please."

John walked up the stairs and realized Sherlock was not far behind. They walked to Mr. Mertz's room. John pushed open the door slightly, afraid to make too much noise. He saw a huge table with different beakers of all shapes and sizes. Some were still being boiled, others were dripping into other liquids. Sherlock sniffed the air.

"What in God's name are you doing?" John asked. Sherlock pulled him back and slammed the door. John tried to get to the door again but Sherlock stood in between him and the door.

"C'mon, me through-"

"No. John, that room is full of extremely toxic chemicals. No wonder that man died. He was hanging around that smell everyday." Sherlock stared at John for a moment. John shrugged and Sherlock shook his head.

"This man was a chemist. Not a regular one who just makes concoctions and mixtures for science." Sherlock shook his head. "No, this man made unnatural things."

After some more peeking around, Sherlock and John said goodbye to Ms. Mertz. She hugged them and thanked them. She hoped they would help her with her husband's case.

"The man was in the drug business?" John asked as they walked away from the house. Sherlock nodded. "Then, what about the woman?"

"Oh, Sherlock!" They heard Ms. Mertz call. Sherlock grinned and spun around.

"Yes?"

"I realized her name! It was Irene! Irene Adler!" Sherlock nodded his head.

"Ah, thank you, Ms. Mertz!" Sherlock yelled. He turned back around and John looked at him in confusion.

"Bingo," Sherlock muttered under his breath.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sherlock, please stop staring at that laptop. It's going to kill your eyes." Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, slamming the laptop. Sherlock leaned back and rolled his eyes at her.

"Mrs. Hudson. Please get out." He said seriously. She shook her head as she wiped the table. She picked up a mug and put it in the sink.

"Sherlock, I'm not your housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson sighed. Sherlock waved her off and opened the laptop again. He started researching until he heard the doorbell. He jumped up and blushed a little.

"It's John." He darted down the steps as Mrs. Hudson smiled. She laughed as she went back to sweeping the floor. Sherlock opened the door to see John facing the other way. Sherlock flipped his messy hair to the side and cleared his throat. John turned around and grinned.

"Hey, I just came by to, uh, talk about the Ms. Mertz case." John said. Sherlock nodded and let him in. As they climbed up the steps, Mrs. Hudson yelled her greetings from the kitchen.

"Hello, John! How are you?" She yelled. John walked through the doorway and waved.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson. I'm well, how are you?" John smiled and looked around. Sherlock's wall had been covered in photos of Mr. Mertz and maps.

John nodded. He took his seat in his usual chair and studied the wall. Sherlock watched John's eyes move across the wall. He noticed John had deep green eyes. He tried to tear himself away but he couldn't. Until John caught him watching.

John stared into Sherlock's eyes, which were a pale, bright green. He moved his eyes to the carpet and tried to focus on something else. Which was a difficult task he has tried too many times.

Mrs. Hudson could feel the tension in the room. She stepped towards the door.

"Uh, I'm going to go back to my place… I'll talk to you later, John." She waved and darted out of there. She smiled to herself as she closed the door to her place.

"John," Sherlock said, stepping aside so John could see the wall. "What are you thinking?"

He wanted to blurt out what he was thinking about but he knew he couldn't.

"Mr. Mertz seemed to have been involved in some drug dealing business with Irene Adler." John sighed.

"Correct but I need more." Sherlock said, sitting down. John faced him. There was a silence as Sherlock contemplated.

"Well, go to your mind palace. You've talked to her. I presume you're still texting her too." John exclaimed, jealously in his tone. Sherlock chuckled.

"Of course. But I'm not texting her. Unless she wants me to find out details." John felt as though a small weight was lifted off of him.

"John, look closer. What does Mr. Mertz look like?" He asked. John shrugged. He watched Sherlock purse his lips and rub them together. His pale, bright green eyes were moving from each picture. John loved the way Sherlock's hair curled naturally. John shifted in his seat.

"Sherlock, I don't really want to… to work on this." John finally exclaimed. Sherlock turned his head to face John. John swallowed.

"Neither do I. Let's go get some dinner, hm?" John smiled and got up. He hadn't come here to do the case or go out to lunch, though. He came to just see Sherlock, just to hear his voice.

"Let's go. C'mon, John." Sherlock had waited for John for too long. Sherlock had waited for someone like John to come walking, or in John's case, limping, into his life. He didn't think he needed someone like John until he came.

Sherlock held the door open for John, who nodded his head in thanks. Sherlock could feel his face getting hot. He shook his head and closed the door behind him.

When they got to the place, the waiter irritated Sherlock. He smiled too much and he was very clumsy. John felt that Sherlock was becoming impatient so he asked the waiter to excuse them when he asked for their orders. He nodded his head and almost skipped off.

"Sherlock, do you want another waiter?" John asked. Sherlock looked at him in shock.

"How did you know?"

"You're my… best friend, Sherlock." John sighed. Sherlock stared at him. He gave him a questioning look.

"I know when you're upset, Sherlock. I've seen it before." Sherlock then gave him a pleading look, as if to say can you just get the new waiter?

John got up and stormed his way to the front desk. He always does things for him. John was always spoiling Sherlock and what had he gotten in return? On his way, though, he had heard the waiter's voice and him say "Sherlock".

He paused and turned to where the voice was. It was coming from behind a door which led to the kitchen. He tiptoed over and crouched by the door. The waiter had an annoyed tone.

"...that Sherlock doesn't talk. His other guy is way nicer. Honestly, that guy is so rude and he acts like he hasn't had human contact. I know he's a famous detective and all but he just sucks as a human. I don't know why that midget hangs out with him. I would-" John had crept in and punched the waiter in the face.

He fell over and laid on the floor, unconscious. The man who he was talking to stared at John, wide-eyed and sprinted away. John turned back to the waiter and smirked.

"Take that, dick."


	4. Chapter 4

"John, you didn't have to." Sherlock exclaimed as he shut the door behind him. They were both panting. Sherlock and John had just ran from the restaurant to Sherlock's apartment.

The past events were foggy in John's memory, even though he just lived them. He remembered that he ran away from the kitchen and scurried to his table. He grabbed Sherlock's hand, clearly not thinking (even though it gave Sherlock an adrenaline rush) and led him out of the restaurant. Once John had explained what happened, Sherlock told him they should run. They agreed and now they are back in Sherlock's place.

"Sherlock, he was saying things about me, too." John exclaimed, pointing in the way of the restaurant. He sat down as Sherlock decided to make glasses of water.

"Honestly, John, you never hurt somebody if they're talking about you." Sherlock sighed and handed a glass to John. John chugged it down.

"I was upset with you and the waiter, I just-"

"Stop making excuses." Sherlock knew that he could shut down John with just a few words.

"You know, I don't care what they say." Sherlock said. John set the glass down on the floor. "All I care about is what you say."

John whipped his head up and felt his heart skip a beat. He felt like he could melt into the couch. John sat up more. Sherlock felt his hands shaking and his palms getting sweaty.

"I'm sorry-" Sherlock started but John cut him off.

"Don't be." Sherlock felt his chest rising up and down. He wished he could just address what they both knew, what they both wanted to say. He just wanted to blurt it out. But of course, the risks of everything. Sherlock knew he would ruin a friendship he cherished, he would destroy John's love life, and he would be crushed if John didn't feel the same way. But he knew he felt the same.

"Helloo?" A familiar voice called. Sherlock shook out of his gaze with John and looked towards the doorway. John looked down and fiddled with the end of his tie. Mrs. Hudson walked in and had a look of concern on her face.

"Dearies, I thought you were in some kind of trouble. The way you burst through the door and ran up the stairs! I almost had a heart attack." She held her hand over her chest. John grinned at her as he brought his head up.

"We're fine." Sherlock cut her off and dismissed her with a few words. She shook her head at him and walked out. Sherlock turned around to face John again. Little did they know, she heard every word of their conversation.

As they got up to review the information they had, Mrs. Hudson was just by the doorway, out of sight from the duo she loved. She held her hands to her chest and sighed. Then, she walked back to her place, thanking God for her own little soap opera in her condo.


	5. Chapter 5

"Sherlock? It's for you." John held the phone up for Sherlock to reach. Sherlock grabbed it and moved to the couch where he plopped down.

"Hello? Ah, yes hello there Mycroft." Sherlock droned. John grinned at him. John knew Sherlock couldn't bear to talk to his brother. He found it hilarious that this man would face suicide bombers, blacklist criminals, and serial killers and was afraid of his family finding out about something they wouldn't like to hear.

"Yes, yes, I have a new case. Where'd you hear that?" Sherlock sat up again. John sipped his coffee and looked back at his paper. Then, his jaw fell open and he stared at the front page.

 **Sherlock investigates Mr. Mertz case**

"Sherlock, you might want to-" John held up the paper for Sherlock to see. Sherlock got up and snatched the paper out of John's hands. He stared at the front page and read it quickly.

"I'll call you later." He mumbled and hung up. Sherlock slammed the paper on the table and rubbed his eyes with his hand.

"Dammit! Ms. Mertz spilled everything. Now we can't work without people watching our every move." He shook his head.

Sherlock opened the curtain slightly to look out at the photographers. They were all shouting his name, begging for answers. He sighed and let go of it. John watched him carefully, expecting for instructions for what to do. Sherlock paced in front of him.

After a minute or so, Sherlock went to the coat rack and tossed John his coat. He grabbed his own and pulled it around him. John cocked his head at him.

"What are we doing?" He questioned.

"Just follow me." Sherlock responded, swinging the door open. John obeyed and walked down the steps after Sherlock as he turned to Mrs. Hudson's apartment. He pounded on her door once he approached it.

"Mrs. Hudson!" He called. They could hear her opening a few locks on the door and finally, opening it.

"Sherlock! Did you-" She started but Sherlock shoved past her. John nodded at her and got past politely.

"Yes, quite frankly I did." He snapped. He swung open Mrs. Hudson's back door and gestured for John to follow him.

"Fine, go ahead and use my back door." She threw her arms up in the air, closing the door and walking back to her kitchen.

"Thanks." John mumbled. He walked past Sherlock as he held open the door. Sherlock scowled at Mrs. Hudson.

"We have to get away from those photographers." Sherlock spat. He slammed the door behind him.

"Ah, he's just grumpy I embarrassed him earlier." She mumbled to herself.

Earlier on Mrs. Hudson had walked in when John had been alone in Sherlock's apartment or so she thought. She told a story about how Sherlock had gotten so drunk he started saying his feelings for everybody. He said he always hadn't appreciated the way Mrs. Hudson always barged in on everything and how he never remembered Lestrade's name because he was a disappointment to mankind. Then, he said he had the potential to be a good detective but he couldn't make it with his attitude. She was about to tell John about what Sherlock said about him until Sherlock stormed to Mrs. Hudson in his bath towel. He told her to leave immediately very harshly.

The one thing Mrs. Hudson didn't regret in that moment was the look on John's face upon seeing Sherlock in a bath towel.

Once Sherlock had closed the door, he stormed passed John who had his hands in his pockets. Sherlock grabbed a cigarette out of his pocket and started lighting it. John didn't see at first and asked where we were going to get a cab. Then, he saw Sherlock with the stick of cancer and sprinted up to him. He snatched it out of his mouth and chucked it at the ground.

"What on earth are you doing?!" He yelled. Sherlock stared at him, eyes burning into John's. John grew a little weak but he still kept eye contact. Then, John smashed his foot over it and smushed it into the ground. Sherlock scoffed at him.

"I'm stressed…" He mumbled. John looked at him, confused. He sighed and walked out to the street. John waved down a taxi and opened the door for Sherlock.

"Let's hurry up, shall we?" Sherlock barked at the taxi driver. He jumped as John slammed the door behind him. Then, the taxi driver sped away from the curb.

"Where to, lads?" He asked, a little scared. John handed him an address and the taxi driver nodded.


End file.
